VIP Girl

Jaclyn Taylor studies Elektra Rose across the kitchen island. The last brat she watches just left in his mother's Lexus, wheels still crunching on the drive. Jaclyn steps close, boots clicking on tile. Her silk robe parts. Nothing underneath. "Extra work pays," she says, voice low, warm breath grazing Elektra's ear. She slides a manicured hand beneath the younger girl’s shirt, palms her breast, squeezes until Elektra’s nipple pebbles against her fingers. Jaclyn works it, rolls it, listens to the hitch in Elektra’s breath. "Neighborhood wives tip big for girls who keep their mouths busy and their legs spread." She drops to her knees, shoves Elektra’s yoga pants to the ankles, finds her already wet. One deep lick, slow and filthy, tongue splitting folds, tasting the salt and heat. Elektra bucks, knuckles whitening on the counter. Jaclyn doesn’t stop. Two fingers curl inside, pump, fuck her to the knuckles while her mouth works the swollen clit. Elektra’s thighs shake, her moans bounce off tile. Jaclyn rises, tongue sliding across lips, eyes dark. "Tell the rest of them how good you are, and you’ll never sit idle again."